The Operator Page 21
A crash from the lab jerked her attention up. “Are you trying to kill her?” Silas shouted, neck red as he fronted a belligerent man in a lab coat. “The residues will build up on her synapses and give her MS!”
The chemist in question dramatically dropped his tablet on the counter and stalked out. Uneasy, Peri held the phone closer as the unknown doctor hit the elevator button hard and turned his back on her while he waited. “Um, what are you doing with my cat?” she asked Cam.
“Feeding him,” Cam said, and she swore she could hear Carnac purring. “He was still there when I went back after lunch, so I picked him up. He looked hungry. Are you okay?”
Peri glanced into the lab where Silas was still reaming out some poor tech, blurry behind a huge holographic wave screen detailing what looked like a neurological pathway. “No, but I will be. Hey, could you do me a favor? Two favors?”
“Sure. What?”
The elevator dinged cheerfully, and the slighted chemist stalked inside and hammered at the button to close the door. “Could you watch Carnac for me for a few days, ah, weeks?”
“He’s housebroke, right?”
“Of course he is,” she said, then added, “As long as you give him a cat pan.”
“Mmmm,” Cam muttered. “And two?”
“Could you forget you have this number?”
“Peri, whatever trouble you’re in, I can help.”
“Um,” she stammered, embarrassed now. “It’s really sweet of you, but I’m okay. I’ll tell you about it when I pick up Carnac. Okay?”
“Yea-a-ah,” he hedged. “You’re coming back, right?” he asked, clearly not believing her.
She was silent, thinking of how long it would take Silas to reverse-engineer the Evocane. “Sure,” she said, hoping she was telling the truth. “Of course. Thanks. I owe you big. Bye.”
She ended the call before he could say anything more, staring at the empty screen and trying to decide whether she was going to keep it or not; it was likely bugged.
Foreboding crept through her, and she wasn’t surprised when the elevator dinged and Jack got out of it, looking so good in his Armani suit and day-old stubble that she didn’t care that the elevator hadn’t truly opened and the happy eighties music filtering out from it was all in her mind. Something had flagged her subconscious that a threat was looming, and Jack had come to warn her. Either that, or one of her old boyfriends worked at the CIA and was on his way down.
The illusion pretended to shoot her with his finger before he sat beside her, his shirt untucked and top button undone. He looked fabulous, and she harbored a growing sensation she’d seen him like that before, probably with a glass of wine in his hand after a successful task. She understood the wine now. It probably hadn’t been easy lying to her day after day that their jobs were legit.
Nah, she thought as the hallucination gave her a sideways grin. He just liked his wine.
“Why are you here?” she whispered so whoever was behind the camera in the corner wouldn’t think she was talking to herself.
“The longer you sit here, the harder it will be to slip them.” Leaning back, he dropped an ankle on a knee. “Me, I’d bug out. Find a hole. Leave Silas to do what he does best. Wait for Silas to find you. He will, you know.”
It was a good idea, but if she left, they might kick Silas out of the lab. The chance that he could reproduce the maintenance drug was worth hanging around for.
“But you never listened much to me, did you?” he said.
“Clearly more than I should.” The elevator dinged again—this time for real. Allen’s voice filtered out even before the door opened, and she stretched her arms in a façade of confidence across the back of the couch. The silver doors opened. Harmony strode out, followed by an older man in a suit and tie. It was there Peri’s attention lingered, recognizing his wealth and privilege—the expectation that his word would be acted on without question.
“Oh look. Your new leash holder,” Jack said, rising to help himself to a coffee from the narrow table against the wall.
The man’s shoes were high-end, and she breathed deeply, looking for the scent of cologne. His Burberry suit was perfection even if it was a bit stiff, woven from black and white threads to give the illusion of gray. He’d gone gray with his tie as well, lined with white and silver. His piercing blue eyes undimmed by age took everything in with efficient swiftness. Peri pulled her arms back to herself, unconsciously accepting his authority until Jack snorted and she shifted her posture to one less accommodating.
“Mr. Steiner, this is Agent Peri Reed,” Allen said as he pushed ahead of Harmony to do the introductions. “Peri, this is Mr. Steiner. He’ll be directing your involvement in bringing in Michael Kord and Bill Heddles.”
Peri stood, slowly extending her hand. “Steiner,” she said, thinking the sound of his suit sliding over itself was soothing. “Nice sandbox you have here.”
He shook her hand, his eyes showing no emotion. “Thank you.”
Her attention strayed to Jack, and he shrugged his opinion. It was obvious that Steiner relied too much on what other people told him. But she probably should play nice if she wanted to keep Silas in his lab.
Allen, ever the political grease, jiggled on his feet nervously. “Ah, I’ve been telling Steiner what I know of Michael. They’ve been monitoring him for six weeks.”
“Really.” There were chairs surrounding them, but no one was sitting down. “How long have you been watching me? Did you see my abduction the other day? What did you think? I should have killed Michael and walked away by the looks of it, but then we wouldn’t be here having this conversation. Maybe you would have sent me a big, fat check if I had.”
“I read the report,” Steiner said smoothly, but she’d seen his flash of ire, and the need to bait him was irresistible—if Jack laughing at the coffee counter behind him was any indication. “I’m pleased you agreed to help us capture Michael,” Steiner finished evenly.
“Agreed?” Peri smiled brightly to make Allen cringe at what might come out of her mouth. “That implies I had a choice. I had a choice?”
“Sir.” Allen adjusted his glasses, giving her a look to shut up. “What she means—”
“No, I’m curious,” she said, not flinching under their stares, her thoughts on the adjacent garage and her chances at simply walking out. “What are you going to do with Michael and the rest of us drafters once you find us? Put us in camps? Science labs?”